


A Far Better Thing

by JD_Wilburn



Series: Galveston Island [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cops, Crime Drama, F/F, Lesbian, Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Sex, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Wilburn/pseuds/JD_Wilburn
Summary: In Bo Alexander's world, right is right and wrong is wrong. That is, until she comes face to face with the notorious Cass Halliburton, second in command of the biggest motorcycle gang in the south. In the middle of an investigation, Cass turns Bo's world inside out and shows her that maybe, in the world of right and wrong, there is a gray area. Double crossing, red herrings and flat out lies lead Bo on a path that will take her away from everything she's ever known and lead her straight into the arms of the enemy.





	1. Chapter 1

Bobbi Alexander looked around and wondered when everything she knew had come crashing down around her. Was it a specific moment that could have been avoided, or had it been inevitable from the beginning? From the moment she first placed the Galveston Police Department badge on her chest, had she been destined to completely forego everything she’d ever known in favor of a moral compass that no longer understood where North was?  
She turned around. Gerald Guthrie was lying to a woman on the phone because he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her son was most likely one of the victims of a shoot out.  
“We’ll find him, I promise. We have a promising lead that’s just turned up and we’re doing everything we can to bring him home.”  
The longer they strung the mother along, the worse it would be when the truth came out. Of course, the body they found was too mangled to be positively identified, but wouldn’t it be better to just break her heart now? Or was it better to lie?  
To his immediate right detective sergeant Paige Gill was telling their lieutenant a story that obviously involved quite a bit of emotion, if her wild hand gestures were taken into consideration. Bo caught the last bit of the story.  
“—and I swear to you, to this day he doesn’t know. Obviously, we’re better now but back then? He’s lucky cheating is all I did.”  
Again, she wondered if it was better that way. Better to lie. Everyone did it, right? What was a lie to save someone feelings? No matter where she turned in the squad room, it was all the same. Lie after lie after lie. All to save face. She thought about her own lie. The little secret no one knew. She thought about Cass Halliburton.  
Hers, like a few others, was a lie that could get her completely discredited as an officer if it was ever found out. But then, if it didn’t affect the way she did her job, what should it matter?  
If smoking marijuana or taking Adderall didn’t affect the way Samson and Heath did their jobs, why should it matter?  
Six months ago, she knew, that line of thought never would have crossed her mind. Right was right and wrong was wrong. Period. Cass Halliburton didn’t see it that way. Maybe she used to or maybe she never did but she certainly didn’t now. Bo thought back to when the two of them had first encountered each other. She thought about hindsight and if she’d have agreed to even take the case if she’d known then what she knew now.  
It started as a stakeout. Newly minted detective Guthrie had asked her, as his former field training officer, to accompany him to the top floor of an old donut store that overlooked a mechanic shop owned by a man named Dusky Nelson. While nothing was off about the mechanics themselves, Mr. Nelson was one of the top members of the Galveston chapter of the Bandidos, and there had been rumors floating that he was using the shop as a front for something more nefarious than an overpriced oil change.  
It was the rookie detective’s first case and he’d asked detective Alexander to come along because he trusted her input and knowledge and, quite frankly, didn’t want to be alone in the cold and dark. She had agreed because, quite frankly, she didn’t have anything better to do. It didn’t hurt that she understood how miserable it could be on a cold stakeout by yourself; having to force yourself to stay awake, trying not miss anything on your coms because you were sniffing too loud, and trying to make sure your inside man didn’t get killed. Assuming you had one.  
While it didn’t usually get anywhere near freezing in southeast Texas, that December was a cold one. The current temperature, according to Bo’s phone, was twenty-seven. Cold by any standards but to someone whose usual outfit of choice was shorts, it was almost unbearable. She sipped her coffee slowly and shrugged her shoulders up slightly to push her thick leather coat further up her neck. A glance over at Gerald told her he had just done the same.  
“It’s fucking cold.”  
He laughed quietly and looked over at her. “I wish I could say I was used to it, but I haven’t been used to it since a year after I left Montana. I got acclimated to the heat and forgot what the cold felt like.”  
She squeezed her eyes shut in attempt to stave off a sneeze. Once she was satisfied the sneeze was gone, she spoke again. “Is there any particular reason you chose the coldest night of the year to do a stakeout in a building with no power?”  
He grinned at her. “You mean besides the obvious fact that nothing was happening during the day? Sergeant Gill told me to come out here tonight when she handed me the case. There’s no real intel and she wanted an idea of whether or not this was going to be worth putting man hours into.”  
Bo made a mental note to kill Paige Gill when she next saw her. “You’re so lucky I like you, Gerald.”  
“Aww, that’s sweet, but I think my wife would have something to say about it.”  
She glared at him and opened her mouth to respond but he held up his finger and then pointed it out of the window. Bo looked down to see Frank Newman—a scrawny ginger twenty something year old that had been in just enough trouble to be a good CI—walking towards the now closed mechanic shop with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweatshirt.  
“He’s the one you have wired?”  
Gerald nodded. “I originally suggested putting an undercover in with the gang but that kind of fell under the same umbrella as why we’re doing this stakeout tonight. No real intel means no proof of wrongdoing which means—”  
“—No way to spin the need for an undercover. I got it. So he’s the wire and we’re here to see who, if anyone, shows up?”  
The big man nodded again. “That’s the plan. Frank already had connections people with who could get him in contact with Nelson for some ‘extra work’ so I had him ask around and this is where we’re at.”  
“So, Gill didn’t actually say come out tonight, she just said to do a stakeout and tonight is when it ended up being?”  
A third nod.  
“I hate Frank. Be sure to tell him that. I hate him. It is a smart set up, though. I’m proud of you.”  
Gerald blushed and then once again pointed out of the window. “Someone just let Frank in the side door.”  
“Let’s see what happens, then.”  
“You’re late, Frank.” Bo assumed this must have been Frank’s contact in the gang. She didn’t recognize his voice, so she couldn’t bring a name to mind. Low level, most likely.  
“My bad, Brad. I was getting some ass. You really think ‘sorry, I have to go do some work with the Bandidos’ is going to fly when my girl wants to get laid?”  
Brad Hernandez, a low-level dealer and newly minted member of the motorcycle club growled at him. “If she was worth being property, it would have.” Property of the Bandidos was the label given to any woman screwing a member of the gang. Obviously, Frank’s girl wasn’t so lucky.  
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a Bandido, huh?”  
There was a moment of silence where the two men walked into the main garage, judging by the sound of echoing footsteps in the wire. The footsteps stopped and Brad spoke again. “Now that we’re all here everyone, listen up. My name is Brad. This gorgeous man beside me is Marcus Sindel. He’s going to tell you all what’s going on.”  
The distant rumble of a motorcycle registered in Bo’s ear, but she was too busy notating the important points of the current meeting to take much notice.  
“The boss will be here in a minute.” Sindel’s thick New Jersey accent made Bo’s ear itch and she fought the urge to scratch it. “Every single one of you is here to make money for the Bandidos. If you have a problem with that, you leave now.”  
Judging by the lack of sound, no one moved, so Marcus continued. “There are parts all around this shop that will be sold to various dealers whose names will be provided for you. You will be gone by the time the boss gets here, or you will he fired. Cass Halliburton is not to see your face at any point in this. If you get in her way, I will get in yours.”  
Bo looked up from the notes she was writing to stare at Gerald’s face, an effigy of surprise. “What the fuck, G?”  
Gerald shook his head. “Nothing in the little bit Frank could get me suggested Halliburton’s daughter would have any part in this.” Daniel Halliburton was the nationwide president of the Bandidos and his daughter, Cass, was the second in command. She would have absolutely nothing to do with something as small time as a chop shop.  
Frank spoke up and echoed their sentiments. “W—What’s Cass Halliburton coming here for? I thought this was just parts and shit?”  
Dusky Nelson, the owner of the building in question, chose that moment to speak up. “You ask too many questions. The Boss does what she wants. Your job,” his deep voice got even closer to Frank, “is to do what we want. Got it?”  
Frank’s voice seemed to jump and octave as he whimpered, “got it.”  
The Motorcycle’s rumble was now a loud roar and Gerald tapped Bo on the shoulder at the same time that she glanced out of the window. He spoke quietly when he said, “I think our new target just showed up.”  
Bo stood and stretched her legs and then cussed out loud as she looked out of the window and locked eyes with the blonde, smirking face of Cass Halliburton.  
“Fuck!” She side stepped quickly, but knew it was too late. “She saw me.”  
Gerald only chuckled and shook his head. “And I thought I was the rookie.”  
“Gerald I will castrate you.”  
The big man frowned. “That’s not very nice.”  
“No, but I bet you’ll sound prettier when I’m done.”  
He threw his head back and laughed. “More to your liking, huh? Say, if I talked in a falsetto would you be more willing to be out here in the cold with me?” He stood straighter and poked out his ass before, “Gee, Detective Alexander, it sure is cold out here. Come keep me warm, please?” He barely missed the empty coffee cup she spilled on him. Mostly empty. The two fingers of coffee left, he could not dodge, however, and his suit paid the price. “Damn it, Bo, this is my favorite suit!”  
“It’s at least seven years out of date. You should be thanking me.”  
“My wife will be pissed.”  
“Better than castration.”  
A thick East Texas accent cut through to their earpieces. “Who the fuck are all these people in my building?”  
The New Jersey accent answered, “Cass! Boss! I, uh, was not expecting you yet.”  
“No shit. What part of ‘only the two of y’all’ did you not understand, Marcus?”  
“See, I just thought that you wouldn’t mind if maybe we made some extra money before you showed up.”  
Cass must have leaned in to whisper something, because the only response was mumbled. Bo imagined them all standing like soldiers at attention in front of their superior officer, waiting for the ultimate reprimand. She thought about Frank and chuckled as she imagined the blood draining from his already stark white face. The poor kid was probably terrified. She thought of the woman she had just seen pulling in, and suddenly she felt sick.  
She frowned and glanced at the computer that was dictating word for word what was coming through to them. “Gerald why is Cass Halliburton talking?”  
He looked perplexed but slowly answered, “Well, I would assume it’s because she’s the boss?”  
She shook her head and began to gather her weapon as a sense of dread grew. “No, Gerald, why is she talking if she knows I’m here? She saw me Gerald.”  
“Because…she’s going to…make an example. Shit!”  
The blonde spoke again. “You thought going against my orders was a good idea with GPD watching us from the building across from us?”  
The detective slammed the laptop down as she bolted across the room and into the stairwell. She screamed for Gerald to follow her as she heard the words, “Take care of this, Sindel.”  
The pair didn’t make it two steps out of the door before the first gunshot rang out, quickly followed by six more. When they burst into the shop, Bo was knocked backwards by a bullet to her chest. Gerald shot twice at the man standing over Frank’s dead body. Marcus Sindel fell dead to the floor, and as his partner Dusky turned to fire at them, Bo fired on shot to the right of his heart. As he dropped, Gerald turned and emptied his stomach on the floor in front of him.  
Bo gently rubbed his back and led him out of the garage. “It’s okay. Call your lawyer, and then call your wife. I’ll get ahold of the night shift Sup and get everyone over here.” As he walked off to do what she said, Bo got on the radio. “Shots fired at Nelson Auto Shop. Requesting immediate backup.” Once the confirmation from dispatch came, she pulled out her cell phone and called the night patrol sergeant, and her own supervisor on a joint call. When they answered, she said calmly, “We’re both fine. I got hit in the chest, but my vest took the hit. I may or may not have gotten grazed in the arm. Gerald is shaken up, but I don’t think he’s hit. We have quite a few bodies so send the ME, please.” They responded in kind and she hung up the phone to wait.  
When the cavalry arrived, the scene was chaotic, to say the very least. The radio sent out had gathered every available officer from the surrounding cities in the county and the night sky was lit up with red and blue so bright it could have been day. A total of eight bodies were removed from the scene. Brad Hernandez seemed to have helped Cass Halliburton escape, and they were told by the responding ME that Dusky nelson would survive. “Ouch! That fucking hurts!” Bo growled at the medic currently cleaning the wound in her arm.  
“It’s a bullet. It’s not supposed to feel good, sweetheart.” The smartassed woman kissed Bo’s cheek without pomp and shoved her off the back of the truck. “Call me later. Maybe I’ll be able to make everything else feel good to make up for it.”  
Bo couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “You’re crazy, Brit, but maybe. First, though, I need to check on my officer. Thanks for the cleanup.” She walked towards the squad car where Gerald was standing, but she waited until he was off of the phone before she approached him. “Is everything okay?”  
He nodded and looked her in the eyes. What she saw there comforted her worry. “I’m okay. I think I just wasn’t expecting this, of all things, to be where I drew my gun for the first time.”  
She drew her eyebrows and cocked her head. “You work for GPD and you’ve never drawn your weapon until now?”  
He shook his head in confirmation. “I’ve been extremely lucky. I’m a white cloud.”  
“White cloud my ass. This turned into a shit storm tonight. I’m glad you’ll be alright, though. Is your wife going to be good? Your lawyer is contacted?”  
“Yeah, I took care of everything. How long before I’m back on the case?”  
She shrugged as their commanding officer walked up. “I’m sure she can answer that, though. Sarge?”  
Sergeant Paige Gill clapped them both on the shoulder. “We’ve got it from here, you guys. You two go write your reports and turn in your duty weapons for evidence. Give it a couple of weeks and you’ll be back on duty. As of right now, you’re on paid leave. Stay with friends, don’t do anything too stupid.” She winked and walked back into the fray, disappearing in the blinding array of light.  
Gerald looked over at Bo’s shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”  
She nodded and grinned. “It’s just a scratch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go write my report and then get laid.” His laughter followed her as she got into a cruiser and drove back to the station.  
She sat down at her desk and ran her hands through her hair as she pulled up the proper format to write her report surrounded by the smell of floor cleaner and rocket fuel masquerading as coffee. She breathed deeply, pulled in the familiar smells and started typing. In her heart she knew this would only be the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Nikki Sanders shook her ass to the music surrounding her as she wiped a spilled beer off the bar. “Fucking party foul, man,” the other waitress beside her mumbled. She grinned and threw the towel in a water bucket as she jumped up on the bar to dance some more, much to the immense pleasure of the bar crowd. “It’s Saturday, Francis! Have some damn fun!”  
As she danced, a rugged looking woman came up to her and threw a dollar on the bar at her feet. “How much for the night,” the woman yelled. Nikki laughed and jumped down, yelling to Francis that she was going on break as she fell into Bo’s arms. The other waitress just laughed and waved her off. “Still keeping your patrons entertained, I see.”  
Nikki kissed Bo fully on the mouth—lingering just long enough for Bo to tighten her grip—before she answered, “Always, my love. My bar has been on top since the beginning for a reason. I make sure they have fun; they make sure I stay in business.” She flipped her long hair back behind her shoulder and fixed Bo with a pointed stare. “My wife called. She said you might be coming over tonight. You want to talk about it?”  
Bo rolled her eyes but eventually nodded in acquiescence. “Can I have a beer?” Nikki agreed and handed her one from behind the bar before leading her to one of the booth seats in the back corner of the bar.  
“Now. What the hell happened? If I recall correctly, you said you were going on a…” She paused and looked up as if searching for the correct phrase, her face lighting when she remembered. “‘A too damn cold, going nowhere, good for nothing stake out.’”  
“That’s what it should have been,” Bo let her know, “but it turned out to be something else. Now we’re at square one on a game we didn’t even know was going on and we have no one to ask about it.” She took a swig of her beer and frowned. “I’m behind, and I don’t like being behind.”  
Nikki tapped on the table as she thought it through. “I guess your only choice now is to do what you do best.”  
“Which is what?”  
The taller woman smiled. “Be a detective.” She slapped the table and said, “And you don’t need me to tell you that, so what else is up?”  
Bo grinned and finished off her beer. “I just wanted to see you. Your lovely wife must not have mentioned that she offered to ‘make me feel better’ as she was cleaning out the gruesome wound on my shoulder.” Bo made sure to emphasize just how bad it was.  
“Oh, gruesome is it?”  
“Truly it is. I could have lost my arm.”  
Nikki slid over and gently kissed the bandage on Bo’s arm, then she kissed her neck before finally kissing her lips again, whispering against them, “Then go ahead and head to my house and Brit and I will take good care of you when we get home tonight. How’s that sound?”  
Bo nipped her bottom lip and kissed it gently. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got to go home and feed chubby first, though. I’ll see you when you get home.”  
Nikki smiled seductively as she got up to walk away. “See you then, baby.”  
The first thing Bo noticed when she walked up to her apartment door was the wet mark under her door mat signifying it had been moved. She glanced around the side of the apartment and saw that the living room light was on as well. Slowly, she drew her weapon and approached the door. Her massive white pit bull, Chubby, was laying on the couch wagging her tail at a woman with long blonde hair sitting in Bo’s recliner.  
She carelessly threw the tattered copy of “a Tale of Two Cities” to the side and quoted, “‘It’s a far better thing I do now than I have ever done.’ Sounds like complete bullshit to me, don’t you think?”  
Bo glanced at her dog to make sure she was genuinely fine, and then turned back to face the woman currently stretching after standing up. “How did you get in my house?”  
“One of my many skills, Detective Alexander.”  
The two began unconsciously circling one another like two lionesses looking for weakness. “What do you want, Miss Halliburton?”  
“To warn you.” The answer was abrupt and completely without pretense, and Bo stopped in her tracks.  
“Excuse me?”  
Gone was the smiling woman Bo had walked in on and in her place was a woman who obviously earned her spot as second in command of the largest criminal biker gang in the southern United States. “I’m here to warn you, Detective. Galveston Police Department isn’t prepared to handle what you’ll walk in on if you continue to pursue my boys and I in our endeavors on the Island.”  
“With all due respect, Miss Halliburton, this is my island and I’ll do as I please. Kindly see your way out of my apartment.”  
The leather clad woman made her way up to Bo and body checked her. “Or what?”  
More out of instinct than anything, Bo grabbed the other woman by her arm and twisted it around, slamming her face first into the wall behind them. “Or else.”  
Surprisingly, Cass laughed, and it threw Bo off just enough for her to whip around and slam her fist across Bo’s nose. She felt it crack under the hard fist. As quickly as it started, though, it was over, and Cass held her hands up to Bo. “Assault of a peace officer is a Class B Misdemeanor. Take me in, Detective.”  
Bo snarled and yanked Cass up by her shirt, leaning in close to her. “I don’t fucking think so. When I bring you in, it’s not going to be on some bullshit charge that you’ll be able to talk your way out of. When I bring you in everyone is going to see it. And you’ll know for a fact that it was me who brought you down.”  
“Did I do something to piss you off?” The cocky smile was back. “You seem overly aggressive.”  
Bo simply opened the door and threw the woman out, slamming it in her face. It took roughly three milliseconds for her to realize what she had done, but by the time she opened the door again, Cass was gone. “Fuck.”  
A wet nudge on her hand reminded her of her pit, sole witness to the whole debacle. “You could have easily stopped that, you understand? What use are you as a guard dog?” Chubby simply wagged her tail and then sat down, lifting her paw to say hello. “Useless. Are you hungry?”  
She spent the next hour feeding chubby and cleaning her apartment. When she watched the moon rise over the water, she kissed Chubby’s massive head and left, ensuring that she locked the door behind her.  
She got to the house five minutes before Brit and Nikki. She made it a point to be laying in a pair of panties and a bra when they walked in. One look from Brit told her this was a good decision. “Damn, Bo.”  
She watched Nikki’s breathing grow harder as her eyes roamed ever inch of Bo’s body. “Maybe you should follow us to the bedroom.”  
“I know the way.” The trio made their way into the bedroom, quickly stripping each other of their clothes before falling into bed and losing themselves in a cacophony of moans and grunts. They went well into the early hours of the morning until they finally fell asleep in a tangle of limbs.

***  
The party scene was where Cass belonged. It was where she thrived. If she were being honest with herself, it was where she could blend in. No one asked too many questions in the middle of the club if you were in the right place. Luckily for her, this bar was the right place. Nikki’s Place had garnered a reputation around the state as a place where pretty much goes and anyone was welcome. Anyone from her to, much to her surprise, Detective Alexander.  
She certainly hadn’t been expecting the kiss the bar’s owner had laid on the Detective. A kiss that promised much, much more by the looks of it. When the Detective walked out of the bar, Cass followed. Already knowing her address made it easy to beat her inside, courtesy of a pick lock kit. She hadn’t been expecting Bo alexander to get violent, from what she’d heard about her from the boys on the street, but damn, was she thankful she had. Cass lived for the thrill of the fight, and no one put up a fight like cops. Unfortunately, it had left her high and dry with a massive case of blue balls. “God, she would be so much fun.”  
“Talking to yourself, honey?”  
Cass glanced up from her glass of bourbon to set eyes on a busty red head who could have given Jessica Rabbit a run for her money. Cass purposely kept her eyes at chest level. “I’d much rather be talking to you.” She knew she wasn’t imagining that the woman pressed her chest out more.  
“I just got off. What would you like to talk about?”  
“Well, let’s talk about sex.”  
“Oh, I would love to.”  
Cass grinned and leaned over the table. “Isn’t sex such a great distraction from a bad day? What is your name?”  
“My name is Chelsea. And yours?”  
“Cass. Halliburton. And I’ve had a terrible day. My best lieutenant was shot and killed and now I have to find someone else to run my operations on the Island all while keeping a detective who, up until today, had no idea that the operation even existed.”  
Chelsea made no effort to mask her surprise. “That sounds like a lot. I don’t suppose any of that is a metaphor?”  
“Not even a little bit. I’ve got a whole lot on my plate, and I could use a distraction. Tell me about yourself, Chelsea.”  
The other woman was flustered, that much was obvious, but Cass could tell she was intrigued.  
“Tell me, Chelsea, what do you think about good sex?”  
A bright red blush was Cass’s reward for the question. “I think it’s something I haven’t had in a very long time.” She spoke quietly, almost sadly, but there was an edge that Cass grabbed on to.  
The blonde leaned in closer, her eyes locked on the other woman’s. “Would you like to have it with me?”  
“Yes,” Chelsea seemed to barely be able to get the word out, but her eyes spoke wonders.  
“I’m going home. Come with me. Again, and again.” Cass led the way outside to her Harley Roadster. “I really hope you like motorcycles.”  
Chelsea couldn’t keep her hands to herself. They wandered everywhere they could reach, and eventually Cass gave up on making it home and pulled into a motel off the seawall. Cass spent the rest of the night working out her frustrations about Bo Alexander on the body under her.

The cellphone on the nightstand rang at precisely 0800 the next morning, and Cass answered it without opening her eyes. “Yes, sir?”  
“You didn’t call me with an update yesterday, Cassidy.”  
The scratchy, mildly irritated, baritone voice of Daniel Halliburton anything but surprising, and it was all Cass could do not to groan out loud. “My apologies, sir. Things didn’t go as expected and I was playing catch up.”  
“And you don’t think that warranted a phone call?”  
Respectful, Cass. Be respectful. “You’re absolutely right, sir.” You’re a complete and utter dick, sir. “I should have called immediately. Would you like the update now?” Amazingly, the woman sleeping soundly beside Cass hadn’t stirred while Cass dressed, and as her father requested the update she asked about, she walked out of the room, leaving the woman behind.  
“Marcus Sindel is dead. He—”  
“And how in God’s name did you manage to not call me after that?” His voice was considerably louder now, and Cass had to fight not to yell back.  
“Because I was busy dealing with the detective whose partner killed him.” A growl on the other end of the line brought out the forced, “Sir.”  
“And how exactly did you deal with him?”  
“Her, sir, and I dealt with her by—”  
“Whatever. I’ll be in Galveston in three hours. I expect you’ll have an office set up for me by then. From this point on you will be personally in charge of this operation and I will expect your future reports to be on time.”  
You God damned son of a— “Yes, sir.” She started her motorcycle and couldn’t help the self-satisfied smile that came when he said he couldn’t hear her anymore and hung up. As she drove off, her only thought was, “Where the hell am I going to find him an office?”


End file.
